It's been a hard winter. Austerity measures, job losses, illness and endless endless rain. One of the things that has given me joy amongst all this is the fact that two pairs of bright bullfinches have been visiting my feeders all through the dark months. Little rays of bright energy, their gentle voices in the hedge and their glorious colours of bright red, black and rich mocha.But this morning a great sadness. I find one of the cock birds lying dead on the decking by my summer house. Almost as if he'd been deliberately placed there, by a mocking hand so that I would notice him. Hardly a mark on him apart from the blood at his throat that suggests the assassin was a cat. His bright feathers soggy and matted; slugs trailing over him, beginning the slow, stealthy work of decay. I place him in the edge of the wood where you can hardly distinguish him from the wet and rot of winter twigs and leaves.
And yet, Cat is part of nature, part of the wholeness. He has no malice in his soul. In fact he probably killed the bullfinch because he was bright, noticeable, exciting and alive. There is no black magic, no white magic, only magic, the energy of the universe. The energy itself is indifferent: it's what we do with that energy that moves the tides of good and evil. Beauty and joy, rot, decay and death are all part of it.
But we humans are in a position of huge responsibility, because we have choice in how we use this energy. We can chose to dwell on destructive, negative stuff, or we can chose to be creative and joyful. Where we focus our thoughts, our energy will follow - that's how it works. So be vigilant, work to cultivate joy, love and gratitude, oneness with nature. I will give thanks for the short life of my bright little friend and hope that some of his brothers will be drawn to my garden. Bullfinches seem to be rather shy, solitary birds, so maybe someone else will move into his territory. I hope so. I want there to be baby bullfinches come spring.
